The Choices We Make
by writeallnight
Summary: Hank's father abandoned him.  Tucker's father has too many problems to focus on his son.  Together Hank and Tucker learn how to deal with the pain that comes with having an absent father.  Takes place during "Am I Blue?".
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So...it's been a while. But I'm super excited about this story! I absolutely adore Tucker and I just love the connection that he and Hank have. So here's a little behind the scenes look at what I think happened during "Am I Blue?". Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Why?" Tucker moaned.<p>

"Because you love me," Libby said, batting her eyelashes at him.

Tucker let his head fall back against the couch as Libby reached across him for the remote and changed the channel to TLC. "I should have known better than to let you come over here on a Friday night at 9:00."

Libby smiled at him. "It's not my fault that 'Say Yes to the Dress' is the must see show of the summer," she said, tilting her face up to kiss him.

Tucker sighed with good-natured long suffering. "It's a good thing I love you."

Libby responded by snuggling closer as Tucker put an arm around her.

"Hey there, Lovebirds."

Tucker felt Libby stiffen at the sound of his father's voice, and pulled her closer for reassurance. "Hey Dad."

"I hate to interrupt but I need a moment of your time Tucker."

"Yeah," Tucker shifted Libby off his shoulder so he could rise.

His father disappeared into the kitchen as Libby grabbed his hand. "Tucker," her voice conveyed her worry.

He smiled at her, a smile he didn't altogether feel, and squeezed her hand before following his father. "What's up, Dad?"

"I scheduled an appointment for you to get immunizations tomorrow at 11:00," the elder Bryant informed his son as he searched through the cupboards.

"I thought Hank was going to take care of all that," Tucker said with a frown.

"We will not be in need of Dr. Lawson's services anymore," Marshall told him. "Where the heck…"

Tucker looked at him in shock. "Are you kidding? Again Dad? We need him!"

"No we don't."

"Yes, we do."

"That's enough, Tucker."

"Dad, I-"

"Enough!" Marshall roared and slammed a cabinet door with a loud bang. "Hank is not your father! I am your father and I will decide who is welcome in my home!"

Tucker recoiled at the smell of alcohol on his father's breath. "Okay, I'm sorry!" he said quickly. "Can't we talk about this? Please?"

"Where the hell do we keep the glasses around here?" Marshall Bryant muttered, continuing to rummage through the cabinets. "Ah!"

"Dad?" Tucker tried again.

"What?" Marshall looked at his son, his eyes unfocused as he put a glass on the counter. "Oh, right. Tucker I am really tired right now and I do not want to discuss this anymore tonight."

Marshall finally managed to locate the bottle of wine he was looking for and popped the cork. Tucker watched as his father poured wine not only into the glass, but also over a good deal of the counter. "Are you sure you need that?" Tucker asked, feeling a little angry.

"Was I not clear?" Marshall said harshly. "I don't want to talk anymore tonight."

Something snapped inside Tucker. He grabbed the glass off the counter. "I think you've had enough."

"Tucker, give me the glass," Marshall said, his eyes growing dark.

"No."

"Tucker-"

"No!" now it was Tucker's turn to yell. "You're drunk, Dad. I'm cutting you off."

"You are on dangerous ground," Marshall warned.

"Really? Because I think you're the one in danger," words were just pouring out now. "How much have you had tonight, Dad? Five glasses? Six? Did you take some pills too?"

"That is none of your business!" Marshall yelled. "Give me the damn glass!"

Tucker shook his head. "Fine. Take it. Drink your life away. See if I care."

He slammed the glass on the counter, wine sloshing everywhere, and stormed from the room.

"Where are you going?" Marshall yelled after him.

"Away from you!" Tucker yelled back.

Libby appeared and tried to catch his arm. "Tucker, what is it? What's going on?"

"I have to go," Tucker said, his head aching with the pressure of tears he wouldn't let fall.

He brushed away Libby's hand and started down the stairs as quickly as he could. Suddenly his foot met empty air and the next thing he knew he was in a heap at the bottom with a sharp pain in his right knee.

"Tucker!"

He heard Libby yell and then her footsteps flying down the stairs.

"Tucker, Tucker, oh my God, talk to me," she said frantically as she knelt beside him.

Tucker struggled to sit up. "I'm okay. Ow!" he moaned, half in pain, half in frustration.

"What is it? What hurts?" Libby asked anxiously.

"My knee. Ow!" he looked down to see bruises blossoming across the skin of his knee and hands. "Lib, I think I need-"

She was already up and running to where he stashed his Factor VIII. "Here," she said as she knelt beside him once more.

"Okay, hold this for me," he said as he ripped open the packaging.

"Tucker?" his father appeared at the top of the stairs somewhat belatedly. "Oh my God, what happened?"

"He fell trying to get away from you," Libby spat.

"I'm fine, Dad," Tucker winced as he shoved the needle into his arm. "It's just bruising. Lib, can you help me up?"

Libby made to do so.

"Tucker…" Marshall started down the stairs.

"Just, stay up there, Dad. I'll be fine," Tucker said tiredly, as he gingerly lowered himself onto a lounger.

He felt drained, physically and emotionally. And he definitely did not want to be anywhere near his father right now, no matter how injured he was.

"We should call Hank," Libby said in an urgent whisper as Marshall slowly made his way back up the stairs.

"I'll be okay, Libby. We don't need to start World War III for a bruised knee. The Factor VIII's working. It's all good."

Libby looked at him, her unhappiness and worry written all over her face. At last she sighed. "Well at the least you need ice to keep the swelling down. Stay here, I'll be right back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Tucker assured her.

Libby waited until she had turned the corner before pulling out her phone. She stood impatiently while it rang, looking around nervously for any sign of Marshall Bryant. "Hank?" she said when he finally picked up, "It's Libby. We need you. Tucker's hurt. Yeah his house. Okay. Bye."

She grabbed the ice from the freezer and hurried back to Tucker. "Thanks," he said, putting it on his knee.

Libby said nothing and simply reached for his free hand. Tucker looked at her. "You called, didn't you?"

"You're hurt, Tucker!" Libby said defensively. "Do you remember what happened last time? Because I do and I don't think-"

"Lib, Libby," Tucker cut her off. "Thank you."

She looked up at him. "Really?"

"Really."

She sighed in relief. Tucker squeezed her hand and smiled. "Just don't expect me to stop the fireworks when he gets here."

* * *

><p>AN: Any and all reviews are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long...life kind of really gets in the way sometimes! Hope you like this chapter, I promise to attempt to get the next one up sooner!

* * *

><p>"I'm not seeing any additional swelling, but you should take it easy for a few days, got it?" Hank said as he looked at Tucker's knee again on a couch in Libby's expansive summer home.<p>

"Got it," Tucker said. "Thanks Hank."

"Anything for you, Goose."

"Hank, can I get you anything? Water, lemonade, organic blueberry juice?" Libby asked.

"Organic blueberry juice would be great, Libby," Hank said with a laugh.

"You'll love it. None of those added sugars or chemicals," Libby said. "I'll be right back."

The two watched her go. "She's such a worrier," Tucker said.

"She was right tonight, Goose," Hank said seriously. "You could have been really hurt."

"But I wasn't. It wasn't a big deal."

"It was a big deal, Tucker. Anytime anyone puts you in physical danger, it's a big deal. Your father was out of control tonight. You should not have been hurt. And when you were hurt, you should have called me immediately."

"But my dad-"

"Tucker, listen to me," Hank said firmly. "Your safety is more important than your dad's feelings."

Tucker looked down at his shoes. "I know," he said quietly.

"Good."

"He was really angry tonight," Tucker told him after a moment. "I've never seen him that mad before."

"That's the pills and alcohol talking, Tucker."

"I shouldn't have made such a big deal."

"Tucker," Hank put a hand on his shoulder, "what happened tonight was not your fault. Your dad had no right to treat you that way. He's an adult, he should know better. Do not go blaming yourself for this."

"It's just, he's my dad, you know?" Tucker searched Hank's face for understanding.

"I know," Hank said sincerely. "Have you talked to Libby about any of this?"

"Some of it. She knows my dad has a problem. But I don't think either of us knew how bad it was getting."

"I don't want to tell you what to do, but it might help to talk about some of this. Either to me, or to Libby, even a counselor."

Tucker was already shaking his head. "Bryants don't talk about their issues. We don't take help from anybody."

"Did you ever think maybe that's part of the problem?"

Libby returned then, organic juice in hand. "Here you go Hank. Taste the organic goodness."

"Thanks, Libby," Hank said with a smile.

He took a sip. "That's good."

"Don't get her started, she'll have you here all night talking about food co-ops," Tucker said, squeezing his girlfriend's hand.

"Well then I guess I'd better be going. Get some sleep you two. I'll be by in the morning, Goose. Think about what I said."

"I will. Thanks, Hank."

Libby showed him out and then returned to her boyfriend. "Does it still hurt?" she asked worriedly.

"Only when I move it," Tucker said. "At least the swelling's going down."

Libby looked at him. "Are you okay?"

Tucker snorted. "You sound like, Hank."

"Don't laugh," Libby said as she curled up next to him on the couch. "I'm serious. This should not have happened tonight, Tucker."

Tucker sighed. "I never thought it would get this bad. He was totally out of it Libby. I mean, that's not my dad. Not the dad I grew up with. Not the dad I had before…before my mom died."

Libby cuddled closer. "He needs help, Tucker. It's only going to get worse. Your dad, is dangerous."

"He didn't push me down the stairs, Libby."

"He might as well have! Tucker, he's hurting you. I know you don't want to admit it, but it's true. And I just…I can't stand to see you like this."

She started toying with a button on his shirt. "What do you want me to do?" Tucker asked softly.

"I think you should leave. You can stay here. Just let him ruin his own life. Don't let him ruin yours too."

"Libby."

She looked up at him. "Libby, he's my dad. I can't just let him destroy everything," he paused. "Even if it hurts."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! More reviews make me happy! :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry the update has taken so long! I have been working this story over and over again trying to get it to the right place. Let me know what you think by reviewing! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Hank Lawson did not consider himself to be an angry person. Sure, there were times that he got upset, but overall he preferred to rationally think out solutions, not become enraged. On certain occasions however, he made an exception. This was one of those times.<p>

He looked up from checking Marshall Bryant's vital signs to see his PA covering Tucker's sleeping form with a blanket. "How long has he been out?" Hank asked her quietly.

Divya checked her watch. "Only about ten minutes. I thought I'd let him sleep for now since the worst of it seems to be over."

"Yeah that's a good idea."

Divya peered at him. "Are you all right, Hank? Do you want to go rest for a while? I can take over."

"No, thanks Divya, I'm fine for now," Hank said. He wasn't going to admit what was really bothering him.

"All right then. I'll just take some of these things down to the laundry and get it started."

Hank raised his eyebrows. "You know how to do laundry?" he teased.

"Ha ha very funny," Divya shot back on her way out the door.

This left Hank alone with his thoughts. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and gazed at the sleeping form of his young friend. It was amazing to him how quickly he'd come to care about Tucker Bryant. He'd only known the kid for a month and a half and he already had Tucker on the same level as Evan. Every time the phone rang and the caller ID showed Tucker or Libby's name his heart stopped and didn't begin beating again until he saw that Tucker was okay.

The fact the kid was a hemophiliac scared him to death. Thank God for Libby and her need to over-react to everything. Without it…Tucker could be dead right now.

The kid was smart and funny and had an incredible wisdom about the way the world worked, a product of his time spent alone. And that was what made Hank angry. Here was this amazing kid who had been deal the most unfair hand life could give him. Not only did he struggle with a chronic and often life-threatening disease, but he was completely on his own, having to make decisions no 17-year-old should have to.

Tucker should be out having fun with his friends, not sitting at home, wondering if his father was going to wake up, being forced to take care of the man who should be taking care of him.

Tucker stirred but didn't wake, simply pulled the blanket closer and went on dreaming. Hank thought back to that first day, the first time he had visited the Bryant summer home. He'd thought Tucker was just another kid trying to get out of whatever consequences his actions had caused. Now he knew, Tucker was simply trying to hold on to whatever love his father did give him.

He could still remember the concern and fear that had enveloped him as he had watched the boy collapse in front of him, and then the growing horror as he realized just how much danger his patient was in.

Never in his life had Hank been so afraid of losing a patient. Despite trashing his father's car, he didn't deserve to die. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, letting Tucker and Libby fly off alone in that chopper.

Thinking back he knew he should have gone with them. But he was new to the area and hadn't wanted to overstep further than he already had. When he thought about what could have gone wrong in that fifteen minute ride…it made him sick.

Marshall Bryant moved restlessly on the bed and Hank tensed, preparing himself to hold the man down again if needed. After a moment Marshall calmed and went on sleeping. A glance at the monitors showed Hank things were still normal for a moment.

Deep down he knew why he felt so strongly about Tucker's situation. The pain he saw in Tucker's eyes was the same pain he had felt every day since his father had abandoned them.

The day Eddie R. Lawson had walked out on his dying wife and two young sons, Hank had felt like he was ripping in half. Hank knew everything Tucker was feeling. The abandonment, the loneliness, the hurt, the feeling that somehow, it was his fault.

Knowing that Tucker suffered the way he had made Hank want to hit someone, preferably Marshall Bryant. If Libby and Tucker hadn't been there the other night when he came and picked them up, he probably would have laid the man out flat.

How could this man not see what a special kid he had? Couldn't he see the hurt in his son's eyes every time he missed a birthday party, or a baseball game, or a Christmas morning?

One thing was for certain, Hank was not going to let Marshall Bryant dictate whether or not he was allowed to be Tucker's doctor. He was not going to stand idly by if Tucker was hurt or sick. And he was absolutely not going to allow Marshall to hurt his son.

Divya chose that moment to return and tell him that Evan had some sort of emergency. As she made to leave Tucker sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks Divya," he said.

She smiled and waved goodbye before heading out.

Tucker rose and came to stand by Hank, looking down at his unconscious father. "So, I'm guessing all this doesn't happen from 'occasional' use," he said quietly.

"Yeah, probably not," Hank told him quietly, pain filling him at the sight of Tucker's unhappy face.

"So, what's going to happen now?" Tucker asked, looking slightly lost.

"Well he's going to need to go to a rehab facility. I know of an excellent one in Connecticut. This is just the beginning of a very long fight," Hank said.

"I'm glad you were here, Hank," Tucker said sincerely.

"Me too," Hank looked at him. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Tucker said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know you can always come talk to me."

"I know."

Tucker stretched. "What time is it?" he asked.

Hank looked at his watch. "It's almost 2:30. He's doing fine, Goose. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

Tucker yawned. "No, I'm okay. I'll just stay here."

He turned to walk back to the chair he'd been sleeping on and stumbled. "Whoa!" Hank cried as he grabbed Tucker's arm to steady him. "Sit down."

He guided Tucker to the chair where the boy collapsed, breathing heavily. "What happened?" Tucker asked, his voice shaking.

"You're tired and you're stressed. You're going to bed," Hank told him in a no-nonsense voice. "Come on, I'll help you."

He pulled Tucker to his feet and walked him down the hall to his room. "I've got it from here," Tucker told him when they reached the doorway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be here in the morning. We can talk to your dad about his options."

"Thanks. Goodnight."

"Night, Tucker."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Final chapter! I hope you've enjoyed reading. Thanks for all the reviews! Any final comments are much appreciated!

* * *

><p>Hank arrived back from New York, completely exhausted by the trip. "Henry!"<p>

Evan accosted him the moment he walked in the front door. "I'm so glad you're back! I cannot live through another week with Divya by myself. Do you know what she told me the other day? She said that-"

"Evan," Hank held up a hand, "I have just had one of the most stressful weeks of my life. Could you possibly give me just one moment to actually get inside and relax?"

Evan opened his mouth.

"That wasn't actually a question," Hank informed him as he moved past his brother and into the guest house.

"So, what's the deal? You still have your license right?" Evan asked as Hank set his bag on the couch and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Yes Evan, I still have my license. Although I'm not sure how I feel owing Boris yet again," Hank mused.

"If it keeps us here longer, I'm all for it," Evan said. "I never want to go back to the city again."

"I have to admit, I'm definitely starting to see the perks of living in the Hamptons," Hank said. "New York seemed so crowded and noisy."

"Exactly!" Evan said enthusiastically, "Henrietta, I do believe you are finally beginning to see reason. Now, hold onto your stethoscope. You, me, party in West Hampton tonight."

"Evan, I am not going with you to a party," Hank said. "Remember what happened last time?"

"Yeah, you saved a girl's life, we ended up with an amazing house, no rent, and new jobs. Bam!" Evan cried. "You're welcome."

"Ev, all I want to do tonight is get something to eat and go to bed. You and West Hampton will just have to party without me," Hank said.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" Evan called. "Henry, I really think you should reconsider."

Tucker Bryant appeared in the doorway. "Hey Tucker," Hank said, pleased to escape his brother's clutches.

"Hey guys," Tucker's voice sounded hoarse.

He stepped closer and Hank immediately grew concerned. Tucker's eyes were red and puffy and he looked pale. "What's wrong?"

"I, um, can I talk to you for a minute?" Tucker asked uncomfortably.

"Yeah, yeah, Evan could you…?"

"I'll just, uh, go for a walk," Evan said with unexpected tact.

This did not prevent him from looking curiously over his shoulder as he went to the door. "We'll finish this conversation later, Lawson," he threatened as he pulled the it closed.

"If this is a bad time…" Tucker began.

"Your timing could not have been better," Hank reassured him. "What's going on, Goose? Are you okay? Are you sick?"

He reached to put a hand on the boy's forehead. Tucker waved him off.

"No, I'm not sick. I um, I dropped my dad off the other day, you know," he looked like he was barely holding himself together. "And, at first I was okay. Because I felt like I was doing the right thing, you know? But then, I started thinking and I just haven't been able to stop."

Tucker took a shaky breath. "Thinking about what?" Hank encouraged.

"I'm just so…messed up inside right now," Tucker said. "And I was driving around, and I thought that maybe, you could help me. Because I just, I don't know anymore, Hank."

He swallowed hard. "I hate him. I just hate him right now. And I don't want to but I-"

A sob escaped Tucker's throat and he broke down into tears. Hank's heart squeezed in pain at the sight of the boy so completely destroyed. He pulled Tucker into a hug and let him sob into his chest. He let the boy cry, knowing it had been a long time coming and was a much needed emotional release.

It was several long minutes before Tucker's sobs began to subside. He finally pulled away from Hank, sniffing and wiping his eyes in embarrassment. Hank reached over and grabbed a tissue, handing it to his young friend. "Thanks," Tucker said. "Sorry."

"Here, sit down," Hank said. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm here for you, Goose. Tell me what's on your mind."

"I just," Tucker searched for the right words, "I don't understand. How could he think I wouldn't notice he was using on the safari? How could he do that to me?

"You know he's broken almost every promise he's ever made to me? He's missed my birthday every year since I was nine. And I've spent the last six Christmases at my grandparents. And then there's always some spectacular present to make up for it. But they can't. They can't ever make up for it."

"No, they can't," Hank agreed.

Tucker looked at him miserably. "I can't stand feeling like this. I hate him so much right now, and it makes me feel sick. I don't want to be this mad at him, but I can't help it. Why can't he just be like everyone else's father? It's just not fair."

"No, it's not fair," Hank said quietly. "It's never fair. You don't deserve this."

"And the worst part is, it's all my fault," Tucker told him.

Hank's face instantly pulled into a frown. "No it isn't, Tucker," he said firmly.

"Yes it is!" Tucker cried. "I know it is! If I hadn't been born with hemophilia, my dad wouldn't have gotten so upset that he needed to take pills and drink. He would have stayed home with me instead of traveling all the time. We would have been a family. A real family. Everything that's happened is my fault."

"Tucker, look at me," Hank said forcefully. "Look at me!"

Tucker finally lifted his head and met the doctor's eyes.

"There is _nothing_ that you could do that would make you deserving of the way your father has treated you. You are not responsible for the decisions that he makes. No matter what he says. You are not responsible for anyone's choices but your own."

"Then why do I feel like I am?" Tucker asked desperately.

"Because you love him," Hank said quietly.

Tucker sat quietly, still not looking convinced. Hank sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Tucker, you know I have issues with my Dad, right?"

Tucker nodded. "I want to tell you the whole story."

Hank took a deep breath. "My dad is a gambler, and a swindler, and has never worked an honest day in his life. When I was fifteen my mom," Hank paused as his throat tightened, "my mom got cancer. By the time they found it…there wasn't much they could do. Two days after her diagnosis my dad went out to the grocery store and never came back. Evan was twelve and he cried every night for a month. I watched my mom try to be strong for us. But every day she just got weaker and sicker and then she was gone. And I thought that I had let everybody down. If I had been a better son, a better brother, then my dad would have stayed and my mom would have lived.

"But the truth is, I couldn't save my mom. And there's nothing in the world that would have kept my dad from leaving. It's taken me a long time to realize that. There are still days that I feel horrible about it. But you know what? It doesn't change anything. And the only thing I can do is keep going. And make sure that the choices I make are better than the ones that my father did."

Tucker sat for a moment letting this new information sink in. "Are you ever afraid that you'll…be just like him?"

Hank knew they had found the core of what was bothering Tucker. "Sometimes," he said honestly. "But the day my father left I promised myself that I would _never_ be like him. I would make better choices. I would live my life helping people, not hurting them. I can't say that I've been perfect, but I have done my best to live honestly and work my hardest. And personally, I think that makes all the difference. Goose, it's not our DNA that determines who we're going to be. It's our choices that make us who we are. And you've already made some really great choices."

Hank smiled and put a hand on Tucker's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Goose."

Tucker let out a breath. "Thanks, Hank," he paused, looking slightly ashamed. "I'm really sorry about everything I said. I never got a chance to talk to you with the whole dad almost dying thing. I should have trusted you. I just really wanted to believe that this time would be different. That he was actually going to come through for once. It was stupid."

"Not stupid," Hank shook his head. "He's your dad, Tucker. Of course you wanted to believe the best of him."

"I don't know if I can forgive him for this one."

"Goose, I don't know where my dad is," Hank said. "I can't do anything about that relationship. But there's still time for you and your dad. And from talking with him, I know he wants to fix things with you. He just, doesn't know how. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I'll tell you from personal experience, staying bitter does not make your life any happier."

Tucker sat for a moment and then let out a laugh, finally breaking the tension. "Is there anything you don't know about?" he asked with a glimpse of a smile.

Hank pretended to think. "Now that you mention it, no I don't think there is," he joked. "Are you hungry? I'm thinking pizza. Pizza always makes me feel better."

"Sounds good to me," Tucker replied. "The way you guys take care of me though I'm going to have to start paying room and board."

"That can be arranged," Evan said making a perfectly timed entrance. "Are we eating tonight or what?"

"Yes, Evan we are eating pizza," Hank said, going for the phone.

"Henry! There had better be some normal pizza for the normal people here!" Evan called running after him. "None of that extra veggie pizza substitute that you eat! Give me the phone."

"No!" Hank said indignantly, holding it above his head.

"Did you really just forget that I'm taller than you?" Evan asked incredulously.

He grabbed at the phone and the brothers began to grapple. "Vegetables are good for you!" Hank grunted.

"Vegetables are for salad. They are unnatural on pizza!" Evan gasped, wrenching the phone from his brother's grasp. "Haha! Better luck next time, Henrietta!"

"From grown up to four year old in under sixty seconds," Tucker teased, coming to sit on a bar stool.

Hank shrugged good-naturedly. "You have to communicate with people on their level."

He ducked as Evan, now ordering on the phone, threw a pillow at his head. "Yes that's_ extra_ cheese and pepperoni," he emphasized, grinning wickedly.

Hank sighed. "Ah family. Can't live with them…"

"Can't live without 'em," Evan said, as he hung up the phone. "You know you love me, Henry. Pizza will be ready in twenty minutes."

"Perfect!" Hank said. "What do you want to drink, Goose?"

"Milk's great," Tucker said as Evan went off to call Paige. "Hank, what you said before about trying to do better than your dad did? You do, you know. Not just for me; for everybody here in the Hamptons. Without you saving our lives…who knows where we'd be."

Hank smiled. "Thanks, Tucker. You know, I never really thought about it, but I guess I owe the Hamptons a thank you. I was at rock bottom when I came here. In a way, I owe all of you for saving my life. Or at the very least, my career in medicine."

"I guess we're all even then," Tucker said with a grin.

Hank nodded. "Yeah, I guess we are."


End file.
